


the words left unspoken

by themuslimbarbie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Alternate Universe - Normal Life, F/M, Falling In Love, Not Prime Time 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 13:44:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4265361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themuslimbarbie/pseuds/themuslimbarbie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry sees right through her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the words left unspoken

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hiddencait](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddencait/gifts).



> AU + Slice of Life (kind of)

Hermione is fairly certain that a blind date is not the best idea Ginny has ever had.

She means well, Hermione knows, but heaven knows that she simply does not have the time to meet some stranger for awkward conversation over a cup of coffee. She has a case coming up for trial in only a few weeks. And while it may not be her most important case, it would be rather unprofessional of her to not give it her full devotion and attention. After all, that was the reason she became an attorney - to help those who deserved the help they were so often deprived of.

"It is a cup of coffee, Hermione. On a Friday night. Certainly you can spare a few hours," Ginny says. "Besides, he’s just come to London and hardly knows anyone. He could really use a friendly face."  
  
It's the same argument she and Ginny have been having for the past few days, ever since Ginny came home to their flat and announced that she had found someone that Hermione had to meet. An old friend of her brother's who had moved away when they were younger and had only just returned to London. And while Hermione is thrilled that Ronald has been able to reconnect with his old friend, Hermione hardly sees herself as someone new for him to befriend.

It isn't that she has no interest in making new friendships or potentially meeting a romantic partner, because she is more than open to that, if time permits. Which it usually does not. There aren't many people who understand that. And a man who has only just moves to the city and hardly knows anyone else probably will not understand that.

But Ginny genuinely seems to want this for her and, well, Hermione isn't exactly one to turn down her friends when she does have the chance to see them. So she sighs and nods, and asks Ginny to remind her where exactly is she supposed to be meeting this bloke?

 

 

  
Hermione isn’t exactly sure what she expects him to look like. In retrospect, it was probably a bit foolish of her to have left the house without even so much as asking Ginny for a photograph so she could at least know who to look out for. Especially given that it is a Friday night and the coffee shop is full of young people on dates or studying for exams. He could quite literally be anyone.

Fortunately for her, he arrives only a few minutes after her and seems to immediately recognize her.

It's rather strange, she thinks, meeting someone she always heard Ronald and Ginny mention but never actually saw. As far as she was concerned, he was basically another one of Ginny's countless brothers. Which is why Hermione quite foolishly expected him to resemble them in some sorts. He doesn't though, in the slightest. He's lean and far shorter than Ronald, and has messy dark hair and a pair of quite striking green eyes. And he wears glasses - a pair of circular ones that Hermione is quite certain haven't been in fashion for at least a few decades, but that somehow seem to suit him quite nicely.

And as he approaches her, it becomes even more apparent that even he finds this whole situation a bit awkward and embarrassing. He smiles at her a bit shy, which puts her at ease because at least she isn't alone in this dreadful situation. Which helps an almost embarrassing amount, knowing that she isn't alone.  
  
"You must be Hermione," he says. "I'm Harry. It's nice to meet you.”

 

 

 

Harry, as it turns out, is a detective who has just been transferred to Scotland Yard. He works predominately murder investigations as well as crimes that involve kidnapping and ransoms. Which also happens to be the exact people Hermione spends her days persecuting.

Of course it isn't the first time she has met someone else in the field - she has spent quite a bit of time with various detectives and officers at multiple stations in order to determine all the facts of a case. But none of them have ever struck her the way Harry Potter does. There's something different about him, something much quieter than many of the other officers she's come across. All the good detectives she's met all fight for the same reasons - to stop criminals, to bring justice, to save the world.

However, something about the way Harry talks makes her think that may not necessarily be the case with him. He isn't opposed to justice or stopping criminals, of course, but that doesn't seem to be what drives him.

 _It's the victims' and their family_ , he tells her when she asks. _It's not about stopping their attackers, it's about helping the people. About making sure that the innocent stay innocent as long as they possibly can._  
  
He speaks from experience, Hermione realizes. As someone who saw something too horrible too young. She doesn't say as much, of course. One should never feel pressured to admit their tragedies.  
  
She understands that better than she cares to admit.

 

 

 

Much to Ginny’s very obvious and very apparent glee, Harry and Hermione make plans to meet again the following week. It is nothing particularly spectacular – just lunch at a local café near her office. After all, she does have a trial quickly approaching and she can hardly ignore that for a bloke she’s only just met, now can she?

Ginny, far to elated that her plans to set her best friend up have actually worked, hardly seems to mind. And, fortunately for Hermione, neither does Harry.

While he quickly admits that he very much doubts he’s on her level, he certainly understands the importance of focusing on your work. And he’s certain that there will certainly be times in the future where he will be scarce on time and may not even be able to offer her as much. After all, crime will hardly stop because he wants to see someone.

If he realizes that he’s implied he sees a future between them, he doesn’t seem embarrassed by it and, well, Hermione’s certainly not going to point it out.

 

 

 

Their second lunch date turns out to be just as successful as their first and leads to a third. Which then turns into a fourth and a fifth and, well, she hardly needs to go on when it’s so obvious.

There are little things she notices as the time goes on – he taps his foot when he’s nervous, absolutely refuses to wipe his glasses with anything other than his shirt, and crinkles his nose when he eats something particularly spicy. He bites his lips when he’s deep in thought, mumbles to himself when he thinks he’s alone, and laughs a bit too loud.  He brushes his shoulder against hers when they walk, holds her hand when he misses her, and kisses her with a goofy grin when he has no idea what she’s saying.

They’re all obnoxious habits, but on Harry they’re something else entirely. They’re… _endearing_.

 _Oh, you’re in trouble_ , Ginny says with a wicked grin when Hermione admits it to her.

She knows as much, of course, but she hardly minds. After all, Hermione Granger’s hardly the type to run away from a little trouble.

 

 

 

“I was fourteen when it happened,” Harry tells her one night when they’re alone. “When Cedric died.”

He was a footballer at the time and a good one at that – signed a youth contract with Manchester United on his fourteenth birthday and everything. His entire career he had been told it was a skill he had inherited from his father, who had been in the very beginnings of his professional football career when he and Harry’s mum had been murdered. Harry had only been a newborn when it happened and honestly could not remember anything about his parents.

While he enjoyed football, he doubts he ever had the same passion his father had. But he had the skill, which was enough to get him a scholarship and away from his dreadful Aunt and Uncle. And it was the only thing of his parents that Harry still had, so he played.

Cedric was the complete opposite – he loved football with every fiber in his being. His parents showed up to every game and cheered with all their hearts. And while Harry had always admired him and respected him as their team captain, he had never been particularly close to Cedric. At least not in comparison to their other teammates.

It was honestly surprising that they had both snuck out of their rooms that night and gone to the field to practice. Harry had been antsy and unable to sleep and had hoped that a bit of exercise would help. He never even thought to ask Cedric why he was up so late.

There was a gunshot and then… nothing. Everything went still after that. Later they told him that it was a miracle that Harry survived, but it hardly felt that way. Cedric had a future, had so many people that loved him – so many people that broke when he died. So many people that are still haunted, never knowing who hurt their loved one, who will never have peace again.

So many people, he says without words, that he could have helped if only he had known how.

 

 

 

Harry does not look at her when he speaks, but Hermione can see his grip tighten around his now cold tea cup. His foot, which had begun with a vigorous twitch, loses its momentum the further he moves into his story. By the time he finishes, he’s become frighteningly still.

She does not say anything after he stops, but she removes the cup from his grasp and takes his hands in hers. She wraps her arms around him and pulls him against her chest and holds on to him with all her might.

He remains still at first, but eventually he begins to shake. It begins slowly but quickly escalates and she can feel the dampness creeping through the cotton of her shirt. He wraps his arms around her waist and clings to her with every fiber of his being.

They stay that way for the rest of the night – a mess of limbs and tear with him frantic for comfort and her desperate to give it to him.

 

 

 

She opens up to him soon after that.

Her parents had been driving up to see her graduate from Oxford Law. She had been ranked first in her class and was to give the commencement speech. About half way up there… was an accident. Well, a hit and run, to be precise. Her parents’ car had flipped and ended up in the side of a ditch.

“The medics said it was a miracle my parents survived. They were only half right though, because they survived but they weren’t my parents. At least not anymore.”

Retrograde amnesia, they told her. Her parents could recall who they were, when they were, and what they did for a living, but they hadn’t the faintest clue who she was. They told her that, generally speaking, it isn’t permanent and that the memory could be jogged awake.

So they tried. Hermione turned down her job offers and moved back home with her parents in order to jog their memory. However, nothing worked. No matter what they did or how hard they tried, her parents just could not remember who she was. So, after six months of trying, her mum came to her with a letter containing an offer of employment in London.

 _Your father and I can’t help but live in the past_ , her mother told her. _But that doesn’t mean you should._

Which is precisely how Hermione Granger began her career as a prosecuting attorney.

 

 

 

Afterwards, Hermione admits that it isn’t nearly as horrible as many other people have it. They are still alive and in wonderful health. She says a bit more after that. Rambles it, really. Attempts to brush it off, because frankly she really shouldn’t be complaining, especially not to Harry of all people. After all, she still calls them from time to time, sees them for holiday dinners, has some sort of relationship with them. And she's fine with that now. Honestly. 

Harry sees right through her. He doesn’t say anything, but reaches across the dinner table and places his hands over hers.

It calms her instantly.

He smiles softly at her and lifts her hand and kisses it once, gently. He doesn’t say anything, but she realizes he doesn’t need to. Because sitting there, looking into his eyes, so full love and empathy, she suddenly feels quite less guilty about her outburst.

Hermione squeezes his hand back and smiles at him through teary eyes.

 

 

 

Everything changes after that.

Save a few necessary conversations, Harry's the first person to hear her story. And Hermione has no idea exactly how many people Harry has opened up to about his past (and she certainly does not pressure him to reveal such information), but she cannot imagine it would be many. Harry’s kind and charismatic and ever-so friendly, but he is not the type to share information unnecessarily. It is part of what makes him such a strong detective – his ability to keep everything compartmentalized.

Except with her, that is.

It doesn't happen so much in words. That isn’t to say that don’t converse, because heaven knows they can both talk the night away. But the interesting thing is that they don’t have to talk to be comfortable with one another. They are just as happy being near one another in silence as they are chatting about their days or whispering sweet words to one another.

No, what changes are the words left unspoken – the _I'm not leaving you_ 's she tells him when her fingers find a way to graze against his, the _I love you_ 's he tells her when his lips linger against hers after they kiss, the _I'm with you_ 's they say when their skin brushes against one another’s as they sleep.

They are connected now, she thinks. It’s rather magical.

You see, Hermione has never been the sort to believe in soulmates, and she still isn’t sure she does. But she is sure that she feels different with Harry in her life. And while she would hardly call him her other half (she is completely capable of being a whole person without him, thank you very much), her life is happier with him in it.

With him as her partner.

She never says as much, at least not in words. But she tells him in her own little ways – in helping him review his cases, in the football matches she has begun to watch with him, in the way she holds him when he wakes up from another nightmare. Hermione thinks he feels the same way – he tells her as much when he kisses her forehead as he brings her a late night cup of coffee, when he picks up books he thinks she might enjoy, when he squeezes her hand as they pass by parents smiling with their children.

When she has that – when _they_ have that – she can’t imagine why she would ever need to say as much.

That isn’t to say that it will always remain that way, because time can certainly bring plenty of changes.

And if the ring hidden in Harry’s coat pocket is any indication, they have all the time in the world. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it!


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